Goa Guides - Pigs, Cows and Freaks

For all the fuss made about Goa most of the action comes down to a stretch of 3 or 4 beaches that are only reached by roads full of potholes that wind their way between hills and paddy fields. From above you would hardly image how the area ever came to be a household name.

The beaches are lined with coconut palms and everyone has their story of a near miss. The crows live up there and their chorus is the wake up call before dawn. Cows wander the roads and the beaches, and hassle you as you eat your bananas. There are also dogs that scare the shit out of you at night and a variety of poisonous snakes that make carrying a torch at night a very good idea.

And let’s not forget Goa’s contribution to sewage science: the pig toilet. This is essentially an outhouse with a chute running down to the ground where a pig will come along to eat your shit. It’s fun to hear the first timers arrive and scream at the pigs’ snouts: “Can’t you wait?”

The beaches fill with old freaks, backpackers and hawkers of bags, lunghis and trinkets by the women of Karnataka who come here to make a living every season. “Remember me?” they say, “you promise yesterday you buy!”

A positive irritation are the Indian tourists. They arrive in coachloads and stroll down the beach in trousers, shirt, shoes and socks, looking for topless Western women who might be persuaded to pose for a photo with them. Then they’ll return home and tell their friends that she was their girlfriend.

The trance parties do or don’t happen. It all depends on the local politics with the cops and minister of Goa that year. Everyone drives around on their rented motorbikes or scooters looking for somewhere to dance and everyone follows them, imagining that they’re onto something. Sometimes rumours of a party started by the taxi drivers to make some easy cash.

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